Feeling Good
by rewritetime
Summary: No light, no light in his dark blue eyes. Drabble.


They left him in the end. They always did.

Klaus offered his younger sister a thin-lipped smile, tilting his head to one side sadly, knowing exactly where this was headed. He had seen this one too many times before, as their paths plunged and twisted towards the inevitable, damned end. They would ask questions to which he had no definitive answers, and he'd be forced to play his hand. Rebekah continued to stand her ground—he didn't expect any less of her. He understood her infatuation with Stefan Salvatore, but he also ceded that it was only temporary. Rebekah would soon move onto better things.

She would always return to her big brother.

This—her adamant, stubborn refusal to budge which had occurred so many times before—was nothing more than a temporary inconvenience, and he let down his guard. The first fatal mistake on his part.

She would put self-preservation first, in order to escape the clutches of the greater and darker force lying in wait for them. She would see the futility of pursuing a vampire who was sullied with the dregs of humanity. She would remain with _him_ because she could not abandon her brother. He would make her see, would make her stay. She was a smart girl. Intelligence did run in the family—then again, so did the tendency to be needlessly reckless, headstrong, and obstinate.

"We _need_ to move," Klaus pressed impatiently, eyes flickering to the chaos of the nightclub.

She balled her hands on her hips. "Not without Stefan."

Klaus seethed inwardly.

She was the most petulant child, had been spoiled with emotions and…_sentimentality_. What use were emotions? Even switched off, they were still there, lingering unwanted and resonant somewhere in the corners of the mind. If he had had his way, they would have been obliterated from the very fabric of his being.

Because there was no time for love. There was no use for love. There was no such thing as love.

"Stefan's not coming," he returned much more coldly than he had intended. "We have to disappear—he'll draw too much attention. Let him _go_."

She just stared at him.

He hated it when they looked at him like that—as if he were a monster. He wasn't a monster. It was only that, when the time came, he possessed the ability to pull the trigger without a second thought. They should have known by now that sacrifice was always involved. It was always the price of something grander. He could do what was best for them. He could do what the others couldn't bring themselves to do.

"What did you do?" she inquired in a strained voice, completing his train of thought.

_Nothing that wasn't necessary_.

"Come on! We don't have time for one of your tantrums," he replied.

Something glittered in her eyes. Were those…tears? _Her_ first fatal mistake—showing weakness.

"I don't want to run anymore, Nik! All we do is run. I want to be with Stefan."

No.

No, he couldn't lose another one of his siblings, not now when he needed her the most. He couldn't be alone in this struggle. It would be the end of him as he knew it. He acknowledged that she was tired of running—but so was he. He acknowledged that she was lonely—but so was he.

It was the curse of their kind. Of their family.

"Fine," he leered, gritting his teeth, cursing her who had brought him to his. "Then, choose. Him or me." In the end, Rebekah would choose _him_, her brother. To whom she had the most loyalty, the most allegiance.

She had to, there was no other option.

He almost basked in the answering silence, pointedly angling his head towards her. "That's what I thought. Now, get in the truck. Let's go." He made to move towards the automobile.

"Good-bye, Nik."

Darkness clouded his eyes, as the world came crashing down.

He had barely caught the twirl of her dress in his field of vision, as she turned to reenter the club, to return to her beloved Stefan, before he realized what he had done. He hadn't even known he had reached for it. Grimacing, he realized at that moment that he was always full of surprises…even with himself.

He let go of the handle.

Rebekah stared down at the dagger protruding from her chest and looked up at him, horrified.

"…Nik…"

Niklaus merely stared down at her, as her body cracked and greyed into a hideous remnant of what she had been in life. In undeath, he quickly corrected himself. They had long ceased to live, had long ceased to know what it meant to be alive. But it had to be done.

Because they left him in the end. They always did.


End file.
